


Scenes from Skyhold

by mapplestrudel



Series: The Discontinued Story of Fuzzles and Champ [3]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapplestrudel/pseuds/mapplestrudel
Summary: There goes my feeble attempt at chronology... ;)***This little story is available as audio post read by yours trulyhere:)





	1. Night Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes my feeble attempt at chronology... ;)  
> ***  
> This little story is available as audio post read by yours truly [here](https://mapplestrudel.tumblr.com/post/162632585736/tumblr-apparently-ate-the-file-i-uploaded) :)

Night has fallen onto Skyhold, quieting the bustle of the day. The Command tower is dark, its doors locked until dawn. Up at the loft, Rona and Cullen have temporarily fled from reports and responsibilities, seeking respite in cuddles and sleep - him the big spoon, a shield, wrapping himself around her, she reveling in this newly accepted feeling of warmth and home and… “right”. Their minds are half in the Fade, drifting asleep already while Mira lies huddled at their feet, slobbering in blissful dreams.

Suddenly Rona jerks up with wide eyes as if she just had a revelation. She looks at him with opened mouth and slightly furrowed brows. Her mind is ticking, her heart racing.

“Hey Cullen?” she whispers into the night.

“Yes?” he grumbles half asleep and tries to pull her back into his arms - unsuccessfully so, as she sits and looks at him with glistening eyes in the dim light of the lantern that stands beside the bed.

She still does not like the dark.

He half-opens an eye, the amber glint enhanced by the lantern’s flame.

“I love you.” She states matter-of-factly, though with a pinch of surprise.

He closes his eye and chuckles, a sleepy rumble vibrating from his heart into hers. “I know.”

She smiles and settles back into his arms, eyes falling shut again already.  
“Good.”

Some moments pass, filled only with soft breathing sounds.

Then suddenly Cullen lifts himself up on his side, and now it’s his turn to look wide-eyed. With the gentlest touch he tucks a stray curl behind her left ear. Her weak, almost deaf, left ear. That’s how safe she feels, he realizes, and it makes him proud.

“Rona?” he rumbles, loud enough that Mira’s ears twitch. Still, with her good ear pressed onto the mattress she feels her name more than she hears it, and she smiles and turns around to peck a little kiss on his forehead.

“I know.” she whispers, and Cullen’s heart does an extra jump at the adoration he sees in her eyes.

They settle back in. He wraps as much as he can around her, and places a small kiss at the back of her head, smelling earth and campfire and summer in her curls.

“Good.”

He’s content, happy even. Who would have thought?

A cool breeze dances through the loft, rustling the leaves of the branches peeping through the hole in the roof as the two of them fall into an undisturbed restful sleep for once.


	2. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rona wants to sneak a hug before leaving early in the morning, but things go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing something angsty...  
> It takes place some time after "Night Whispers". Like a month, maybe?
> 
> Thank you Gwen_Cousland and JohnCousland for pre-post comments and encouragement! <3 :)
> 
> The bunny was inspired by Preacher, btw.

It’s not long before dawn, the sky already shedding its night blue dress as Rona and Mira approach the Command Tower in full traveling attire. She had hoped to find Cullen up already to say goodbye before leaving for urgent Mail matters in Denerim, maybe even sneak a hug for good luck. But as she quickly scans the office, desk and chair, and the sofa at the other side, she finds them all empty. Upstairs, though, a lantern is lit, its flame fretful in the breeze through the hole in the roof. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly as her face warms up. It’s her lantern, a gleaming little welcome. However, she doesn’t want to disturb his sleep, so a quick note will have to do.

With a few fast strides she’s at the desk, while Mira runs up to the ladder. She’s just found a pen, as indistinct groaning from above catches her attention. A short glance to Mira, and the pen clutters unwanted on the table. The mabari fidgets, keeps looking up and whimpers, and Rona is at the ladder within the blink of an eye, steps echoing between the walls.

“Cullen?”

She calls up and tilts her head in hope of an answer, listening with her good ear, grey eyes squinted and focussed through the planks of the loft. Again groaning, tossing, all accompanied by the song of a robin in the branches of the roof tree.

“Cullen? Is everything alright?”

No answer, but a clang on the planks.  
She looks again at Mira as if the mabari could grant a sudden spark of knowledge of what to do.  
Fists clench as she stares back up the ladder. Then the sounds from above culminate into a series of pleading “No, no! No!” while Mira puts her forelegs at a chest high step, and barks once.

“Yeah, you bet I’m going up. Keep watch, alright?”

An affirmative bark is the answer, and the mabari sits on her hind legs, ears up and twitching.  
With swift steps Rona climbs the ladder, its metal cold to her touch. A peek over the fall hole reveals nothing unusual, but Cullen is heavily tossing and turning on the bed, his mumbles like a silent plea for help.

“No… no… leave me.”

Old wood creaks as she steps up and onto the planks.

“Cullen! What’s -- ”

Her breath gets caught as her heart starts weeping at the sight before her.  
The bed is a mess, crumpled, damp. He is writhing as his hands grasp the sheets so hard the knuckles turn white. His face, pale, but glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, is contorted into a mask of pain, eyes squeezed shut, forehead furrowed, jaws pressed against each other as his teeth grind. His locks are dark from the sweat, sticking to his face. Beside the bed a mug lies in a clear puddle.

Rona is at a loss. Never before has she seen anybody having such an intense nightmare. Her own occasional bad dreams seem like a piece of cake in contrast.  
What to do?  
He has to wake up, or he’ll hurt himself.

“Cullen, wake up.” She calls him somewhat louder and rakes a shaking hand through her hair, still put where she climbed onto the planks.

“No. NO! Go away!”

“I’ll --,” her voice trembles, as much as she’s trying to keep it steady - “I’ll go for sure, but you’ve gotta wake up first!”  
She takes a deep breath and rounds the bed to his side, reaches out - recoils - but then closes the distance at last. And as soon as she touches his shoulder, she knows - this was a mistake.

Cullen rises abruptly, eyes wide but not recognizing.

“Demon!” he shouts with hate contorted face, and grabs her, falling on her from the bed.  
“Stay away from me!”

Strong fingers snake around her throat, pressing in unrelenting force.

“Cull... Stop…! “ - she rasps desperately - “it’s me!”

To no avail.

Something shatters inside her with a crystal fine “ting”, and as her breath leaves her, other sensations flood over her.

 

* * *

 

 _A manic crowd cheers, entrenched in smell of blood and sweat and booze and death._  
_Above her the furious amber eyes disappear, dissolve into mud brown bogs of hate in a greasy face, adorned by a vicious smile. The foul stench is overwhelming and makes her heave. Two strong hands grip tight around her neck while the sheer mass of the body keeps her wiggling uselessly in place. Dark spots start to dance in her vision, and her eyes roll to the back of her head._  
_Then one hand leaves the throat, starts tearing at her pants. Somewhere in the back, a half grown puppy growls and barks, shuffling at a cage door. A tongue slides up her cheek, a mouth breathes rotten air hard into her ear and grates with disdain dripping voice_

_“Know your place, woman.”_

_She bites._  
_At the ear. Bites through. Spits while blood gushes and the smelly meat loses balance, almost burying her. But she scrambles, scrambles, scrambles, kicks at the face, anything._  
_Then free, finally._  
_Breathing._  
_Air into the lungs._  
_Air._  
_Breathe!_  
_It hurts._  
_But she breathes._

_She’s on him a second later, sitting on his back, his arm twisted backwards. Oh she knows the leverage and presses hard and fast, the sound of breaking bone like music in her ears. She dissembles him. Methodically. Limb by limb. Doesn’t know what’s more disgusting. The blood-thirsty crowd rejoicing in the symphony of pain. Or the smelling, sobbing Meatface making sounds like a little bunny in a bear trap._

_Or - that she likes that she’s good at this, good at something after all._

 

* * *

 

It all comes back and floods her mind. She’s there at the loft, but also not.  
Bone cracks, and a furious wail sends her flying against the wall.  
She picks herself up, trembling, fists up in reflex to counter any move. But nothing comes. She shakes her head and blinks, her vision returning reluctantly.

He’s there, staring, a distant cold marring the soft amber. But he, too, blinks, and the hate melts and she sees her own pain, regret and guilt reflected in his eyes. His shoulders slump, arms hanging at the side, blood dripping from his right wrist where bone protrudes from the flesh. Her hand goes up massaging her throat, falls down as she looks again at his wrist.

Her ragged breath picks up pace as her eyes well up. It’s all too much - _too much_ \- it hurts.. everything… her throat, her head, her heart - she can’t… She can’t… She cannot stay.

“I’m... leaving… for Denerim.”

A hoarse whisper pressed through clenched teeth and quivering lips across the bed - their refuge! - that now feels like an abyss. She’s not sure if it reaches over, cannot care right now. Then she turns and heads to the ladder and is gone.

*** 

Cullen stands paralyzed.  
Red pain circles in his arm, white pain stings in his head, blue pain singes through his veins. All too much to bear, the lantern too bright, but the room got darker when she left. Exhaustion stayed, however, and brings him down. He curls up on the spot beside the bed and weeps.


End file.
